Solitary Sburbia: John
by St Elmo's Fire
Summary: A ten-year-old John moves into his new house. (Co-written with Farla. Part of the Sburbia series. Originally posted May 2010.)


John looked around his room. It felt empty. It was a bigger than his old room, and as he had just moved in a little while ago, most of his things were still hidden away in boxes. Only a single movie poster was up – he'd have to hang up the other three later, when he found them. Even though everyone said the movies were terrible, he still liked them.

John glanced at his computer where it hummed softly on his new desk. He had recently gotten into programming, with the expected amount of success. That is to say, none at all. He sighed and contemplated going downstairs to see if he could find the posters, or more of his books on paranormal lore and magic tricks.

He was snapped back to reality by the blaring, incessant beeping noises emanating from his computer. He might as well talk to whoever was pestering him. It must be one of his friends – they probably wanted to know how he was doing.

John trotted over to the computer and opened Pesterchum.

 **\- tentacleTherapist [TT] began pestering ghostlyTrickster [GT] at 4:10 -**

TT: Hello? John? Are you there?  
TT: I haven't heard from you in a while. Is everything alright?  
GT: hey rose. i'm fine. it took a couple days for them to hook up our house's internet.  
TT: So I take it you've moved successfully?  
GT: yeah totally.  
TT: How are things at your new locale?  
GT: really nothing remarkable at all. same old same old.  
TT: Really. And how are your neighbors?  
GT: honestly it's really kind of empty. just a bunch of boring salarymen  
GT: and women i guess  
GT: who leave in the morning and and go right back inside at night.  
GT: there's like this company that comes by to mow everyone's lawns  
GT: and i don't think there are any other kids around.  
TT: That's too bad.  
GT: no it's cool really.  
TT: Is not one of the benefits of suburbia the companionship it offers children?  
TT: Or so I hear.  
GT: apparently not. but i don't mind.  
GT: it's bad enough dealing with jerks at school  
GT: without living next to more of them.  
TT: I see.  
GT: anyway i still have a lot to do!  
GT: dad's setting up the tire swing and stuff.  
TT: I imagine. Talk to you later, then.

\- tentacleTherapist [TT] ceased pestering ghostlyTrickster [GT] at 4:13 -

John peered out the window. His father had already set up the pogo ride in the front yard, and it looked like he had assembled all the pieces of the tire swing. John decided to go down and help. He cautiously went out of his room, trying not to look at the clowns... _harlequins_...that were everywhere. They were one of the first things his father had set up, and he had begun to adorn the walls with disgusting pictures of them as well. John could not understand his father's obsession with the things. Perhaps he set them up everywhere just to spite him.

He examined his grandmother's cremation urn, situated above the fireplace. Surprisingly, it had made the trip over in perfect condition. John walked away from it, and it occurred to him that, trope-wise, he should have tripped or done some other accidental thing to knock it over. But that was stupid. Only an idiot in some ridiculously hackneyed plot could possibly make such a mistake. He shrugged and walked to the front door, again attempting to ignore the wretched clown figurines.

A loud bell interrupted him. With dread, he entered the kitchen warily, and was dismayed that it was, indeed, cake that his father had been cooking. He was supposed to take it out and leave it to cool, but he could not bear to touch the dreaded thing. His father had been obsessed with cake for as long as he could remember. Its severity was almost as great as his clown obsession. John suspected that his nemesis, Betty Crocker, was secretly controlling his father's mind. It was the only reasonable explanation.

Just as he finished this thought, John's father materialized in the room to slather Betty Crocker frosting over the dreaded culinary abomination. John fled back to his room as fast as possible before his father could say something to him, or, worse yet, offer him a slice. He shuddered and considered barricading the door. Perhaps chatting with one of his friends would make him feel better.

 **\- ghostlyTrickster [GT] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 4:31 -**

GT: hey dave, you there?  
TG: hey john  
TG: so you moved in?  
GT: yeah.  
TG: is the place like totally sick  
GT: so totally sick!  
GT: and i'm gonna get a tire swing! :D  
TG: ...  
GT: it's okay, don't be jealous of how awesome i am.  
TG: ...  
TG: youre serious  
TG: not like ironic or anything  
TG: about a tireswing  
GT: yeah! There's a tree in the front yard.  
GT: it'll be by the pogo ride!  
TG: sometimes you say things and i think wow  
TG: this guy is riding irony like a mechanical bull or something  
TG: off into the sunset  
TG: and then you are you  
TG: its like  
TG: brb brainless feathery assholes again  
GT: what.

\- turntechGodhead [TG] is an idle chum! -

A beeping noise interrupted John. Someone else? He hoped it wasn't one of those trolls...if they persisted any longer, he might have to change his username.

 **\- gardenGnostic [GG] began pestering ghostlyTrickster [GT] at 4:32 -**

GG: hi john! :D  
GT: hi jade.  
GG: i'm so glad about the move!  
GG: do you have the pogo ride set up already?  
GT: yeah  
GT: i guess i told you about that, right?  
GG: *giggle* ^_^  
GT: uh...okay.  
GG: well anyway i'm really glad that you moved okay! and brought the ride because i bet you will be very happy to have it! 3  
GT: thanks. :)


End file.
